KEY POINTS:
When I ran the New York Marathon last year, I couldn't get over how lovely the people were.
You hear all about how brash and rude New Yorkers are, mainly from Americans from other states, but my experience and the experiences of the other runners I spoke to, was fantastic - epitomised by the lovely man who rescued me as I stood, exhausted, forlorn and freezing, trying to hail a cab that would get me across to the other side of town to my hotel.
Three-quarters of the 40,000 runners appeared to have finished at the same time as me, so although I'd thought ahead and had $20 to pay for a cab tucked securely into my running shorts, I hadn't realised how much competition there would be.
I stood for half an hour, increasingly more despairing, as cab after cab whizzed by, crammed to the rooftop with sweaty runners and their supporters. And then my guardian angel appeared, escorted me back to his running shoe shop, offered me a drink, gave me change for a bus, and walked me to the stop. He told the bus driver which stop I needed to get off at and wished me well.
From then, everything went smoothly and I met even more people on my journey back to the hotel who were kind and hospitable and made sure the marathon was memorable for so much more than the run. So while we were on holiday in New York, I was determined to track down my lovely man and thank him properly.
At the time, I was so befuddled, I didn't get his name or the name of the shop and I'd always felt guilty that I hadn't been able to write to him. I bought an All Blacks jersey at the airport and I'd brought in my luggage a copy of my book as a token of my appreciation. I couldn't track down the other kind people but I was sure I could track down my man.
And so last Saturday my daughter and I set off. I knew roughly where I'd exited from Central Park after the marathon and I was sure that the shop would be within a 10 to 20-minute radius of the exit. And bingo. Within 15 minutes, I was on the trail.
I asked a couple of rangy runners, sipping their post-run, decaf, iced coffees if they knew of a running shoe shop close by and they pointed me in the right direction. The shop looked kind of familiar but then I guess all running shoe shops look the same. And so, clutching my presents, I walked in the door.
In an ideal world, I would have walked in, my man would have looked up and across the counter there would have been the flash of recognition. We would have embraced warmly, I would have handed over the gifts and we would have parted company with karmic balance restored. However, this is not an ideal world and when I walked into the store I was greeted by a wall of incomprehension. None of the men looked like my one; when I asked who owned the store, they told me the owner never came into the shop, it was just an investment for him, and they had no idea who my rescuer might have been in.
My bubble thoroughly pricked, I walked out, still clutching my presents. And that's just the way it goes. I haven't given up completely. I'll do a bit more Googling and emailing but I may have to give up without ever thanking him properly. I would love to have reciprocated my rescuer's kindness but sometimes you have to accept that random acts of kindness don't need return or reward. And rather than trying to deliver payback, the best way of giving thanks is to be a random guardian angel to others.
